milliways_bar | Entries tagged with hektor

He is not so small as he used to be, so hanging on the top rail of the fence no longer works as once it did; but there are times when Hektor finds himself called to Milliways and does not much want to stay indoors, just as there have always been. And the fence is still there, so one may find him in a place he knows quite well: standing outside at the paddock-fence, watching the various patrons' horses in silence, comparing them to the ones he knows.

For all that he is watching the horses, other companionship would not be amiss.

hippodamio

Hektor found, yesterday, that when he looked up from his book the door was no longer there. That was well; it meant that the goddess was looking after things. It had happened to him once before, and that when he was reading the book of the horse-tamer. There are no books in Troy, not in any language used by men. The goddess, it seems, does not wish Hektor to bring any back with him; if he is to make use of them, he must do what he would do with a teacher or bard, and learn it all off by heart. That seems fair.

He spent last night in a room upstairs not so different from his own, and he has been outside after, but now he is indoors once more and struggling his slow, painful way through more reading than he has ever done in his life. Knowing a thing must be committed to memory, and actually doing so, are very different things; he would welcome a distraction.

hippodamio

Some things are more easily explained than others, and some cannot be explained at all. There are no books in Troy; the writing that Hektor's people possess is a thing for clerks, for temporary, brief messages. If one wants to learn a thing, one must first find a teacher willing to convey that thing. That is how it is, how it has always been.

But the grey volume that the goddess gave him when last she called him here is too fascinating to pass up, and so after coming to the Bar and laying his offering down (wine once again; the goddess has yet to object to that), the young prince of Troy takes up his book and settles in by the fire to struggle his way through it. It will never cease to amaze him, that there could be so many words in one place.

hippodamio

Hektor is prepared, this time, when the door opens from his home to the Bar. "I have had this near to hand for some time in case you called me here, Lady," he says, bowing with fist on brow. "It seemed a better gift than wine alone, and still appropriate."

He no longer needs to stand on tiptoe to place his offerings on the Bar's surface, which is just as well. A carved bull's-head rhyton is easiest balanced when one can see what one is doing. When the drinking vessel disappears Hektor smiles, and bows again. "Thank you, Lady," he says. "Now, if I may ask a favor of you. . . once, you gave me a book, so that I might learn what I needed to tame my horse Boukephalos. I had thought to ask you for another, or else for a name. The time will come when I will have need of knowing as much as I can about the ways of war, beyond only what I have learned from Father and my uncles. Will you tell me who I must meet, that I may learn as much as I can? If you cannot, then a book will do, if any have written upon the subject."

There is a long silence and stillness from the Bar, but in the end a slender grey volume materializes. Hektor bows deeply once more. "Thank you, Lady," he says. "There will be better offerings in it for you next time, if this goes well."

The adolescent then retreats to a convenient table so that he can look over his newly acquired reading.

hippodamio

If the arm-load of leather and bronze he carries is aught to go by, Hektor had no expectations of the Bar this even. He looks around him and sighs. "So much," he mutters, "for the armory. Well, no harm done, I suppose. . . Lady, my apologies, I will make the offering another time. For now may I have some oil and a cloth? I had meant to leave this for the servants."

Upon receiving his request, he takes his corselet and helm to an open space before the fire, and begins to work.

gavemea_45

Dean's occupied with two girls at the bar, and from the way it's looking, Sam's pretty sure it'll be morning before his brother gets back to the motel. But upon overhearing the story Dean's spinning, Sam can't help but laugh.

"Man, a reality TV scout? What're you gonna think of next?"

Shaking his head, he packs up John's journal and his own notes and takes off. But when he opens the door to their room and finds Milliways on the other side instead, Sam shrugs and walks in.

mistressmaryquitecontrary

If one is going to strike up an acquaintanceship with a Greek mythological figure, Mary feels, it's just as well to be well-researched on him for the next time you meet him.

. . . and though everyone keeps telling her it won't help, it can't hurt to read up on the Greek version of the underworld either.

Which is why Mary has a book of Greek mythology open in front of her today, as she sits in the bar, looking up every few moments to see if someone - say, Mr. Lyon, but anyone really will do - happens to be present who might have important news.

call-me-shane.livejournal.com

It's not glamorous, or fun, but it is necessary. So long as there are horses, there are stables that need mucking out. The horses on one side of the stable have been turned out into outside pens, and Shane, stripped to the waist, is clearing stalls in a steady, methodical fashion. He sings softly to the rhythm of his shovel.
"No more cows, to be ropin'. No more strays, do I see..."

hippodamio

Perhaps it is only recent events in the Citadel leaving him on edge, but Hektor had a feeling that the goddess would bring him to the end of all things this day. He does not come unprepared, but instead carries an amphora with him as he enters the Bar. It sloshes very audibly as he bows, fist on brow, to the Bar. "Lady," the young prince says, "Kassandra my sister has spoken at last. I do not know what you want with me, but I ask only that you do not keep me from her and from my parents too long. It is bad enough as it stands."

He lifts the container, painted all over in sea-creatures of all kinds, and sets it down on the Bar's surface. When it vanishes he bows again, and then turns to sit and watch the Window. This day has come the closest of any he can remember to setting him to trembling. The destruction outside holds no terrors for him, just now.

lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com

Take a story, and bind it into a book. There is a cover, a title page, credits, and the information which a publisher adds. Dedication, acknowledgments, and the chapter heading before the story begins. Stories never begin in the beginning. They start in the middle; one trick first time writers are told is to put the second chapter first.

Stories do not have beginnings. The most common thing said when someone is trying to explain something is I don't know where to begin. Where does the story of a life begin? With the birth? There are nine months of growth before that. With conception? That implies that the past has no effect on the present.

Somewhere there is a book. This book has a beginning, a middle, and an end. This book holds the story of the universes. The beginning is not here. The end is not yet. The middle is too large to contemplate. The book is full of chapters, paragraphs, which hold parts of the story. They may never connect in a way that the reader expects, but they are all part of the story.

Endings are a bit easier to define. Some define an end to a life-story as death. Some define it past there. All stories share the beginning, but endings are private.

Say goodnight, Gracie. The End. Wake up.

Sometimes you can see the end before you get to it. You turn the page and realize there are not many left before you reach the back cover on this fragment of the story. You hold a friend and realize that when the hug stops they will drive away forever. You see a flash and know that tragedy has struck. You look ahead and see the diploma waiting for you.

Not all endings are for the worse. Some are a form of freedom. You see them coming, and you can not help but smile for what lays ahead for the heroes.

Most endings include a period of goodbye, and Dream is fond of stories. In one way he is a story himself. Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, has passed the end of his story and marks time at the End of the Universe. From here he has watched the ending of many stories, and the change of many more. In one way he is the stories he watches.

An end is near, and it is not his end. That end is passed. It would, however, be a small and petty thing if he who had held the story and helped a woman force her story to linger were to allow this ending to happen without noting it in a greater way.

Dream is seated in his throne, a glass of white wine held in his snow-pale fingers, watching the bar and the stories within it. It is not often he manifests without being called; but he is here. One he has called his own, one he has called a friend, finally gets her long deserved and desired ending. Dream is here to say goodbye to Lucy.

He is manifest in the bar, however, and that means that he is willing to speak with those who desire to speak.

not-a-horse.livejournal.com

It is rare, exceedingly rare, that she chooses to leave the House of Arch for Milliways itself. But Ingress is asleep, at least for now, and Megwyn is restless -- more so than usual.

(She'd known, when she'd Chosen one so young, that it would be years before she could truly return to Valdemar. Still, there are times when she misses her home.)

She noses the portrait open and jumps through, hooves chiming silver on the room's floor. The Companion paces slowly across the room to the lake door, and soon after her cloud-white coat gleams in the dusk as she stands by the lake, looking out over the water.

(ooc: for the record, Megwyn can be intercepted at any point along her path, indoors or out.)

hippodamio

The sounds of the Palace on the other side of the Door are muted, muffled; it has the feel of a quiet that follows after some great news has come. It does not last long, as Hektor closes the door behind him, bows to the Bar with fist on brow, and sets a jar of wine atop the Bar proper. He has not eaten yet this evening, but that seems not to matter much, as he is going straight outside for a time without so much as bidding the goddess hello in words. Some things cannot be borne aright with family all around you.

waylostandfound.livejournal.com

Nathan was out back, and completely unaware of recent goings on with people he knew. He was walking around, and looking up toward the sky. Watching the stars come out.

Current Music: "Learning to Fly" by Pink Floyd

masterofsoresu

The stranger who knew Obi-Wan eventually separated him from Matilda and is now explaining to him some things about this strange place where he's found himself. This man Donighal seems to be telling the truth and nothing but, as far as Obi-Wan can tell (there's some sort of fuzzing in the Force that makes him hard to read), but Obi-Wan gets a sense nonetheless that what he's being told falls somewhat short, in its composition, of the whole truth in all its glorious aspects.

Be that as it may, Donighal has explained the nature of the place (a resort at the end of time, where one can meet and dine with a fascinating cross-section of everyone who's ever lived), its rules (all of which sound easy enough to follow), and even the oddly angular letters in which everything seems to be written (starting with the "alphabet" letters for the name "Obi-Wan Kenobi" and building his reading comprehension from there).

Now, they're drinking caf (well, Obi-Wan's drinking caf; his interlocutor is having tea of some sort) at a table together, talking about nothing in particular, being botherable.

[OOC: One mun, two pups. As usual, if you want to tag one of them in particular, please to be specifying; else, whoever has the most to say to your pup will return the tag.]

called_lioness

[ooc: It's late for entrance post, but Lucy's in anyway for anyone who wants her. She'll be back other nights.]

Yesterday she and Caspian talked.

And it's decided (and she's happy for it) and it still means--

Well, it means the thing it must.

It means good-bye.

She spent yesterday with her husband; she spent today with her horse, who she can't take with her.

Tonight she's watching, just in case she spots anyone. There are many she'd like to, and some she knows she likely won't.

But you put the effort in, either way.

hippodamio

When the door opens from the Citadel in Troy, Hektor does not look much as if he wants to step through; but it would be unwise to ignore the call of the goddess, and so he enters Millways anyway. His bow is a little short, a little pained. "Lady," he says to the Bar, "I have no offering to make you this day. All that I had set aside to bring, I have had to give instead to Apollo, to turn his wrath aside from my sister. I would not rob you of what I owe, but I cannot bring you anything until I have returned home and the matter of my sister is settled."

The Bar does not seem very much upset with this. Indeed, when his words are done she offers him the mid-day meal, although he had not asked for it. He murmurs his thanks and turns to find somewhere that he might sit with it, without being overrun by thoughts.

hippodamio

Some days ago, Hektor's fortune turned; the goddess let him and his horse return to Troy unharmed and without trouble. He has been busy in his city all the days since then, but today there has been little enough calling for his time and attention, and so he slipped away from the eyes of the rest of the Palace earlier today to come to the Bar with the usual offerings. "And this," he says to the Bar, "is an extra offering of thanks; for no one was foolish enough to come close to Boukephalos, and be harmed by his temper. I have already offered my gratitude to Poseidon Hippios for that, but it seems to me that I owe it to you as well."

Having done his duty he bows, as is usual, to the Bar; then he takes his bow (for he had it with him when he came in) and his quiver of arrows, and heads towards the back door in search of somewhere that he might practice for a time.

will_scarlett

Will has never swam in anything with a tide before, only a river and there's this lovely new inlet, his boots, shirt, belt are all on the beach and he's in the water.

Its warm and different and quite utterly lovely, he may spend a good bit of the morning out here if he can manage it.

(OOC: Still open for tagging and now the muns actually awake)

hippodamio

He has not been into the Bar these past nights, not since his arrival. Hektor has spent the nights awake, leaning on his spear and tending his fire; as he has not spoken to any who tend the stables, he has had to keep watch over his horse. There are things howling in the woods that have voices no wolf of his knowledge could ever hope to match. As for his days, he has been looking for a way back on the paths by which he came here, or working Boukephalos until the edge is off the stallion and he no longer seems likely to seek out other horses for a fight. But tonight, at least, it seems quiet; and so the horse is safely tethered outside, well away from the stables, and Hektor has come indoors for the moment. One can only make so many meals of an ill-prepared belt pouch's contents and the stuff found growing in woods so strange as these.

hippodamio

If one is outside, perhaps by the edge of the woods beyond the Bar, one may hear footfalls. Although in truth that is not quite the right word; hoofbeats, now, that is more like it. The source of the sound may be seen some moments after the sound itself is first perceived: a horse of considerable height with a coat the colour of bronze.

His rider, Hektor- a lad of perhaps fourteen, whose head would not quite reach the horse's shoulder were he standing on the ground- pales when he sees where they've arrived. "We need to go back," he says to the horse, twisting about to look over his shoulder.

But there is no sign of the hunting-grounds from which they came.

"Oh, this cannot end well," says the boy, and begins to look for a path well away from the sound and smell of other horses.

hippodamio

It has been some days on the other side of the door since Hektor last left Milliways, and to his great relief there have been no repetitions of the events that drove him here. Probably Priam has run out of local nobles with daughters, or else he wants to set the hook in a few prospective jaws; in either case he has not asked his queen's oldest son to sit through another day of being considered.

Today he has come to the Bar on purpose, having spent long enough at study and practice and work with the horses to satisfy any two other lads his age. He made promises when last he came, both to the Bar and to another patron, and he makes good on them both; the first is done by means of an amphora of wine, and the second by . . . well, he does not see Will Turner straightaway, so for the moment he will set the spear and the rest of his arms aside. They will take no harm in the place next to him at the table, he thinks.

turned_captain

He would have expected things to change on Barbossa's arrival, and it's frustrating that the only thing that's happened has been Will's renewed determination to leave this place, and increased frustration that he can't.

Still, he knows more than he did - a plan to try and bring Jack from the other side, with a ship and a crew. And more importantly, he knows that Barbossa has an ulterior motive, even if he doesn't know what it is. If there's one thing Will knows by now, it's that ulterior motives can be twisted to a man's own age. His have enough times.

But for now, he's sitting at a table eating breakfast, facing the door, which keeps not appearing.

hippodamio

There have been many, many visitors to the Palace today, and hektor has had to sit through all of their attentions. If he had not been trained in the art of patience since boyhood, it would have ended poorly; even so, he is still more than a little relieved to find, at day's end, that the door opens not onto his rooms but the Bar. "Lady," he says, bowing more deeply to the Bar than ever, "you will not find me wanting for gratitude. This you may have, now, and with my gratitude."

He takes off the belt he has been wearing today, tooled leather dyed a deep, rich blue, studded with bronze and set with polished stones here and there. "I shall bring you wine again when next I arrive," he promises, "but please, accept this offering for the moment, if that is all right."

When the belt is gone he orders half a bannock with honey, and moves to find himself somewhere suitable to sit. Beltless he may be, but the rest of his garb is some of his best, and it probably would not do to sit too close to the fire for fear of the odd spark.

wizard_dresden

Right, so, New Mexico is incredibly hot. I'm thinking it has to do with that desert thing it has going on. Anyway, it's also where Luccio, Ramirez and I are training some new Wardens in battle-magic. Or - we will be once we unglue ourselves from... everything.

You ever have to set-up a tent under blistering heat? Not so much fun. It's done though, and now we can get out of the blistering heat.

I step through the tent flap, into the less-hot-inside of the tent, calling back to Ramirez, "Hey, you have any water that hasn't evaporated..."

But I seem to have stepped, not into the tent, but into a very familiar bar. "Nevermind."

Looks like I get to have my water and serve it too. Hooray for me. Sorry for the uber!sweaty look, didn't have time to shower before my shift.

Specials
WATER
Tequila
Michelada*

*added in Ramirez's handwriting

"Order up and don't mind the Latin wizard across the bar, he's just there for show."

[ooc: tag one or the other or both - just toss into the subject line to whom you are speaking... grazie]

ETA: [ooc: and the Harry-mun calls it a night folks]

callsignhusker

It's been long enough since he dressed like a civilian that Adama looks completely ill at ease -- above and beyond the way he moves. Plenty of exertion -- too much, he guesses Dr. Tam will say -- means he's leaning heavily on a cane as he emerges from the infirmary and makes his way slowly down the hall.

By the time he lowers himself into an armchair, he's breathing heavily, too.

It's a few minutes before he signals a waitrat and requests a bottle of water. The change of scenery's worth it, but he's not looking forward to making the return trip any time soon.